


One Year in the Valley

by Tarlonniel



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlonniel/pseuds/Tarlonniel
Summary: Since I can't quit my job and move to Stardew Valley, I'm doing the next best thing - writing about moving to Stardew Valley. Here's my epic - no, scratch that, my slow and leisurely exploration of life, love and magic in that far-off land. Hitch a ride on a moonlight jelly and come along.
Relationships: Harvey/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	1. The Empty House

Stardew Valley is a lovely, peaceful place which follows the Cindersap River down from its birthplace in the mountains to where it meets the Gem Sea. When I moved there its main attraction was an abandoned mineshaft a little north of the main settlement, Pelican Town. New adventurers would come to test themselves against slimes, bats and rock crabs, sometimes carrying away a gem or two for their trouble, but otherwise the inhabitants had the place pretty much to themselves. Zuzu City was a few hours away by bus, train or car, but most folks there had never heard of the valley or its town. Nothing much ever happened there. Just people quietly living their lives between the mountains and the sea.

West of town and north of Cindersap Forest is Stardrop Vale, where two of my grandparents owned a small farm. I visited them every summer as a kid. I wasn't very interested in farming or small town gossip; I spent most of my time exploring the river and lakes and hills, either alone or with Maru or Abigail, two of the local girls who were near my age. Maru loved science and Abigail loved dark, wild places. I loved magic. The valley was full of it, or so I thought, and my friends agreed with me, though Maru called it "an incredible diversity of plant and animal life" and Abigail just said, "It feels cool and creepy in spots."

I was always chasing rainbows to find leprechaun gold, or peering into the ocean to spot a mermaid, or building little huts of twigs and leaves for junimos. If you've never been to Stardew Valley, you've probably never heard of junimos; Maru explained to me that they were a relic of local nature-worship traditions that had been displaced by the worship of Yoba. My grandparents had all sorts of stories about them. They even claimed that junimos helped them farm, and had little huts scattered through their rows of crops and flowers and things. I accepted this as I accepted leprechauns and mermaids and the rest, but I never managed to catch a rainbow, or glimpse a mermaid, or meet a junimo, and eventually I got older and set those beliefs aside.

When I was fifteen, my visits to the valley ended. Grandpa fell ill; he and grandma moved to a suburb of Zuzu City so he could be near the doctors who were treating him, and their farm was packed up, but not sold. I figured they were hoping Dad and Mom would retire there someday, but my parents never showed much interest. I went to college, studied accounting and got a decent job in a mid-sized business. It was dreary and deadening, but jobs were hard to come by. At night I escaped through books and movies and music and video games.

Grandma died about ten years after they left the valley. Grandpa followed her so quickly that they were buried together. We had the funeral in Zuzu City, but it was Stardrop Vale where we finally laid them to rest, in a quiet corner of the quiet farm that was now turning into wilderness through neglect. I couldn't get away from work to attend the burial, but I sent along flowers and promised myself I'd visit as soon as I got a chance.

That chance came rather unexpectedly. When I returned to Stardew Valley for the first time in ten years, it wasn't as a visitor, it was as a resident - temporarily, at least. My grandparents had left the farm, and almost everything else they had, to me. And now I had to decide what to do with it.

The first thing I did was quit my job. My grandparents had had more money than any of us suspected, and with some sound investments and careful economy, I figured I could leave the principal untouched and live on the interest. The real question was the farm. I didn't want to sell it; I knew how much it had meant to my grandparents, and they were part of it now, in a way, but on the other hand I was no farmer and had no real desire to be one. I spent some time on the phone with Mayor Lewis of Pelican Town, and with my parents, and decided to spend a year taking a crack at living there. At the very least I'd be closer to my parents, and I had such good memories of the valley that I was eager to see it again.

Mayor Lewis and Maru's mother, Robin, met me at the train station, both looking ten years older than I remembered. There was only an old dirt road leading out to the farm, but fortunately the spring rains hadn't turned it to mud yet, so I threw my luggage in the mayor's truck and we jolted our way out to my new home. My hosts filled me in on the events of the last decade, most of which I didn't hear - I was looking at the valley. On the surface it hadn't changed at all; the same tall trees, green hills, river shining in the distance, sky clear and blue. But it seemed different, somehow. Maybe because I was different - a grown woman rather than a girl. Maybe because my grandparents weren't waiting to greet me this time.

The farmhouse was dark and silent when we arrived. Robin proudly pointed out the various repairs she'd made in preparation for my arrival, and she'd certainly given me my money's worth. After ten years of neglect it looked as good as new. They'd cleaned the whole place and even dug out and arranged some of the furniture, on top of hauling over the boxes I'd sent ahead to the general store. It was just terribly, terribly empty, and far too big for one person, especially the upper floor. I left that part of the house in figurative mothballs and, once my visitors had left, settled into the rooms on the ground level. Lewis had stocked the fridge and one cupboard with some basics for me, but a severe lack of cooking implements - and of cooking skills - meant I couldn't manage more than canned soup, toast with jam and tea to wash it down.

Before darkness fell I went to visit my grandparents. They were tucked in a corner of their overgrown paradise beneath a grassy bank, near where a little stream sang as it came down out of the hills. I sat awhile looking up into those hills, full of flowers and birds and leafy trees, and far off on a steep cliff the old stone tower that had given rise to many local legends, all about a wizard who lived there and practiced his dark arts. Some stories said he was still there, and since no one had manged to climb the cliff, the stories couldn't be proved wrong. More than once Abigail and I had stayed up past our bedtime watching for a light in the tower, but we never saw one. I didn't see one that time, either, so I walked slowly back to the empty house under the first stars.


	2. The Doctor is In

Next morning, in an effort to avoid thinking about the mess that was the farm, I decided to look up some old friends. As I entered town a new building attached to the general store caught my eye - some kind of clinic, according to the sign on the door. A vague memory from yesterday floated back to me. Robin had said something about Maru working for a doctor; presumably this was the place. The door was locked so I knocked lightly, just in case she was around and I could save myself a walk into the hills. Pretty soon I heard someone coming, but the door was opened by a youngish man, maybe five years older than me, with fluffy brown hair, hazel eyes behind round glasses, and a mustache.

"Oh, uh, hi," I said. "I just moved here and I was looking for Maru. Her mom said she was working for a doctor?"

"Yes, that's right, two days a week. I'm Dr. Harvey. Are you Emma?"

"That's me. Is she here?"

"Not for another hour or so, but you're free to come in and wait if you'd like."

"Okay, sure. Thanks." I followed him inside, looking around curiously. "I don't remember either a clinic or a doctor being here the last time I visited. When did you move in?"

"It was - let's see - almost three years ago now, shortly after I finished medical school." He walked behind the desk in the reception area to continue whatever he'd been doing. "I was lucky to get a practice of my own so soon."

"Did you have this place built?"

"Oh, no. That is, it wasn't my idea. Most of it." He paused, a little flustered, to collect his thoughts. "What I mean is, Mayor Lewis thought the town was in need of a doctor, and eventually a mutual friend put him in touch with me. He had this clinic built with my suggestions in mind." A touch of pride crept into his voice. "Would you... like me to show you around?"

I nodded and he took me on a short tour. It was a neat, modern place, set up to do examinations, deliveries and even minor surgery, with a little office for the doctor in the back, complete with a locked cabinet for his files and another for the stronger drugs. "I'm impressed," I said, truthfully. "This must've cost the town a lot of money. I didn't know having a local doctor was so important to them."

"Traveling to the city was becoming a problem for some of the townsfolk, but the real impetus was more adventurers showing up to brave the mine. I understand there was a rather severe accident the year before I arrived; the victim was taken to Zuzu City for treatment, but nearly didn't make it." He frowned. "Nothing quite that bad has happened since. I hope it stays that way."

"Do you like it here?"

The frown quickly changed to a cheerful smile. "I do! This is precisely the sort of practice I'd hoped for, a small town where I could try a more holistic approach to patient care. And this valley is an ideal place to live - so beautiful, so pristine. In fact, it looks like a wonderful spring day." He glanced out one of the windows with a sigh. "I wish I could go out and enjoy it."

"Why don't you?"

"Oh, I can't. That is, I may take a short walk at lunch, and another after the clinic closes, but I can't go too far. I want to make sure I'm never hard to find."

"You're very dedicated," I said, and he blushed, which was adorable. "By the way, since I'm going to be living here, at least for awhile, I guess I should... well, do whatever you have new patients do. Is there a form you need me to fill out?"

"Yes, you're right, we should get you started. There _is_ a form, and when Maru gets here you - " He glanced at the clock and started to panic slightly. "Oh dear! It's almost time to open and I'm not nearly finished yet."

"I'm sorry," I said as he started rushing around. "I've been distracting you."

"No, no, it was entirely my fault. I enjoyed having someone to talk to and lost track of time." He gave me a sheepish grin. "Here's a new patient form. Just hand it to Maru when you're done filling it out; she'll be here by then."

I went into the reception area and had the form nearly complete when the front door opened. I didn't recognize her at first - she was taller, and her hair and skin were darker, but one look at the violet eyes and I knew it was Maru. It took her a moment to recognize me, too.

"Emma!" she said, shaking my hand. "I didn't expect to find you at the clinic. How are you?"

"Doing pretty well. I figured Abigail wouldn't be up yet and I could save myself a hike by waiting for you here. I've also been getting myself checked in." I waved the form. "How's your hunt for a graduate school going?"

"Still working on it. I decided to concentrate on mechanical engineering over electronics, narrow my focus a little."

We kept chatting as I finished the form. We'd kept in touch off and on over the years, but there was still a lot of catching up to do. We'd got on the subject of her father's latest research project when the door opened again and a familiar-looking little old lady walked in, wearing a flowered dress and hat, with her grey hair tucked up into a bun.

"Granny Evelyn!"

"Well, sakes alive! If it isn't little Emma all grown up!"

I hugged her and, after a few minutes of conversation, promised to come see her and George later on. Maru showed her into the back for her appointment and I went on to my second visit of the day, right next door at the general store. Pierre and Caroline still ran the place and made an appropriate amount of fuss over my return, but it turned out I'd just missed Abigail - she was already off into the mountains. Caroline said I'd find her if I followed the river, so I started out on the hike I'd been hoping to avoid.

I heard her before I saw her. She'd always liked to sit near the lake and play her flute, and apparently that hadn't changed. She hadn't changed much, either. Her hair was a dark shade of purple - she liked to vary it every few months - but she had the same pale skin, blue eyes and unique sense of fashion. She saw me coming and stopped playing to wave. "Emma! You're back!"

"Yes, I'm back," I said, sitting down beside her. "You've gotten really good on that thing."

"Thanks. It's not the same as it used to be, though. Remember those evenings with the moon rising, and mist coming over the lake?" She sighed.

"I do. I could've sworn you made the mist dance for you."

"I sure felt like I did. But we don't get those sorts of mists anymore."

"So is this what you decided to do with your life, flute solos in the mountains?"

She laughed. "No. I'm still making up my mind."

She'd been making up her mind on the subject for years - it was a running joke between us, though I'm sure her parents found it less funny as the years went on and she didn't settle down to anything. Abigail was Abigail, though, and you just had to wait until she decided things for herself.

We talked until lunch time, when Abigail started back down the mountain to get something to eat. She invited me along, but I turned her down; as long as I was in the area I figured I'd drop in on someone else. I climbed a little higher, until I could see a tent on a rocky ledge among the trees, with a small campfire nearby. Just below the ledge, near the lake, I found who I was searching for.

"Hello, Linus," I said. "Remember me?"

He hadn't changed much either, still a roughly clad man with grey hair and a bushy beard - half hermit, half druid. He blinked at me in surprise. "Emma. I thought you'd come back here one day."

"You're a better prophet than I am." I leaned against a stump and followed his gaze out over the lake. "My grandparents left me the farm. I'm living there now."

"Is that so? How long?"

"I just got here yesterday. How long I'll stay, I don't know. At least a year, I told myself, but..."

He glanced at me with warm brown eyes. "What? Something wrong already?"

"I'm not sure. How long have you lived here, Linus?"

He thought about it a bit. "Some thirty years, I'd say."

"Have you noticed anything... different? In the last ten years or so?"

"How do you mean?"

"I can't put my finger on it, really. Maybe I'm looking back through rose-colored glasses, or maybe I was just young and imaginative, but Stardew Valley always felt... well, I don't know how else to say it. Magical. All those stories you told me, all the ones my grandparents knew, they all seemed like they could be true. Now the valley feels changed somehow. It's still beautiful, sure, but something's missing. Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so. I felt it, too, the first time I came through in one of those boxcars." He jerked his head toward the railroad station. "The train stopped fifteen minutes to unload, but it was long enough to know I was home. The valley was full of life; the trees were greener, the animals were less afraid, the people were kinder than anywhere else. But now the feeling's sort of faded. Maybe that's how things go. Some places are special for awhile, then other places get to be."

"Will you be leaving? To find one of those other places?"

He shook his head. "I'm too old for roving now. Just last year I took cold so bad that Dr. Harvey had to come up and look after me. He didn't charge me for it, and I've paid him back with fresh fish and fruit when I could, but it's a sign. First time since I got here I couldn't look after myself."

"Well, if you need anything, come to the farm and trade me a story for it and it's yours."

"Will do. It's nice to have you back again, Emma. Feels a bit like old times."

I said goodbye and started back down the mountain toward town, thinking things over. I passed a field of daffodils and plucked one, then, remembering something, a few more. I added blooms of various kinds as I went, and when I finally got back I walked over to the clinic.

"Back already?" said Maru, grinning at me.

"Just for a minute. Is the doctor busy?"

"No, not right now. You can go on back if you need to talk to him."

"Okay. Thanks." I pushed through the swinging door and went toward the office. Dr. Harvey popped his head out as I approached.

"Emma! What can I do for you?"

"Ah, well - " I stopped and suddenly felt embarrassed. "Maybe this is silly, but I remembered what you said earlier - about wanting to get out and enjoy the beautiful day - and I was coming down from the mountains, and I saw all these flowers, and I thought they were like little pieces of the beautiful day, so... um..." I held the bundle out awkwardly. "If you want them."

A slow, delighted smile spread over his face. "For me? Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Uh, you don't have allergies or anything? Or any of your patients?"

"Oh, no. One or two cases of mild hay fever, but these shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. Enjoy." I waved to him, and to Maru as I passed her, and made my way to the saloon, where I hoped to get a good meal from Gus. I knew it would be expensive, but I was famished.

His cooking was just as delicious as I remembered, and when I was leaving he even made me an interesting offer. He said it was salmonberry season and that he used to get the best salmonberries of all from my grandparents, picked right on their farm. If I brought him some of those berries he might be willing to trade for free meals - or even cash, if I brought enough. That was all I needed to hear. When I got home, I dug out an old basket and went berry picking.


	3. Earning a Free Lunch

I passed the overgrown flower beds and went out the gap in the decaying fence which used to be a gate. This was where a few small fields had once started, but now it was all turned to woodlands. I followed the old dirt track, barely visible now, which led to the boundary with the older, bigger trees of Cindersap Forest, then turned west until I hit the hills, then north. When I got back to the fence I'd been gone two hours and had a good stock of berries in my basket. I walked slowly back to the "gate", picking a few more berries along the way, and paused in front of the old junimo hut that stood nearby. Many of these huts were still scattered around the farm, and in pretty good condition, too, but this one had a special significance. My grandparents took the best bit of each day's harvest and left it at the entrance - a treat for the junimos, they told me.

Maru had said it was another relic of nature worship, a symbolic giving back to the land, and that some animal made away with the offerings. Abigail said it was a sacrifice to keep monsters at bay. Whichever way, the food was always gone in the morning. I'd stopped believing in junimos but I figured I'd respect my grandparents' traditions, so I dug through my basket for the biggest, juiciest salmonberry and laid it in front of the hut, then went back to the house. I washed the berries and set them on paper towels to dry, fixed a meager supper, and when that was over, stepped out onto the porch to watch the sun set over the hills.

I couldn't help remembering how I'd played in the yard while my grandparents stood on the same porch, watching the same sun set over the same hills, their arms around each other, and I began to imagine what it would be like to stand there with someone and watch our children play. I could almost hear their high, happy voices, and feel his warm arm around me, and the softness of his wool sweater against my cheek. At that point I realized the image of my future husband was starting to bear an alarming resemblance to Dr. Harvey. I waved the daydream away; after all, just because I was lonely didn't mean I could start fantasizing about guys I'd just met. I figured I was overtired and went back inside and to bed.

Next day I packed all the berries up in my basket and headed out, but as I passed the flower beds I noticed that a few perennials had survived the weeds and grasses. I paused, argued with myself, then finally picked one of the tulips, adding some daffodils as I walked to town. I didn't know how soon Gus would be awake, so I made the clinic my first destination. Dr. Harvey answered my knock and gave me a friendly smile. "Emma! Come in. What can I do for you?"

"I don't want to mess up your morning routine. I just thought the flowers from yesterday might be a little wilted now, so I brought some replacements." I picked them from the basket and held them out; the same slow, delighted smile was my reward.

"For me? Again? Thank you!"

"No problem. It only takes a few minutes." I felt myself blushing and hastily changed the subject. "I have some berries for Gus. Do you know what time he's usually up?"

"I see him heading to Pierre's store for supplies around the time the clinic opens. What kind of berries are they?" I pulled back the cloth covering them so he could see. "Ah, salmonberries, and they look very good, too. Berries are an excellent source of antioxidants. I hope Gus doesn't process them too much; they'd go well in a fresh fruit salad with light dressing."

"Would they? Huh." I frowned at the basket. "If only I knew how to make a fruit salad with light dressing."

"You don't cook?"

"No, not at all. I never needed or wanted to learn."

"That's a shame. Eating well is important. Though I don't do much cooking in my little apartment upstairs, so I suppose I shouldn't scold."

"Don't you like to cook?"

"Oh, I do, but I often run out of time or energy, and fresh ingredients are harder to come by, and more expensive, than you might think. Marnie and Willy do their best to provide milk, eggs and fish to us all, but I imagine things were better when your grandparents' farm was operating."

"I suppose it was. Looking at that place now, I'm not sure how they did it, just the two of them. And I'm just the one. But anyway, I've kept you standing around talking again. Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I enjoyed it. Stop by whenever you'd like."

I let him get back to work and wandered over to the saloon to check for signs of life. A knock on the door brought no response. I waited outside, talking to acquaintances who wandered by, and when I knocked for the second time, half an hour later, Gus finally opened the door. He liked my berries so much that he offered me one free meal a day for the next week in exchange - a deal I gladly took. He said he'd pay me for any more deliveries that week, which was also a good deal, though I figured on slimmer pickings from the bushes as the berries slowly grew back. I said I'd return at noon for my free lunch and wandered off to make my promised visit to Evelyn and George, then down to the beach, meeting more old and new residents. After the saloon opened and I had my first good meal of the day, it was off to the farm for more berries.

Basket in hand, I made the same circuit as before, though without hope of finding much, but to my surprise the bushes were just as full of big, ripe berries as yesterday. I was pretty sure berries didn't grow that fast, but I decided not to question it too closely. I picked them, left one in front of the little hut and went inside to clean them and get dinner ready.

Within a few days I had settled comfortably into a new routine. I brought yesterday's berry harvest and a few flowers into town, stopped to visit Dr. Harvey and enjoy his smile when he got the flowers, talked to folks who went by while I waited outside the saloon, made the delivery, got paid a decent amount for it - Gus's salmonberry pies and salads were a big hit, it seemed - meandered around until lunch, sometimes up into the hills to visit Linus or Maru (when she wasn't working at the clinic), sometimes with Abigail wherever fancy led her, then, after a good meal, back to the farm for more berries. The fast-growing bushes remained something of a mystery. Demetrius, Maru's botanist-zoologist father who'd made a career out of studying the valley, came over to take a professional look at them, but he said they were just ordinary salmonberry brambles, though unusually healthy and productive. He made a lot of remarks about the soil which I didn't understand, and that was that.

At the beginning of the second week, Gus upped his offer - _two_ meals a day for free, plus cash on top (though not very much). I was in heaven. I'd come by the saloon in the evening while my berries dried, but it was usually so loud and crowded that I didn't feel comfortable sticking around to eat there; instead I took my meal home and sat on the porch, munching and reading a book while the light faded. My only concern was how long the berries would hold out.


	4. Dancing Around the Issue

At the beginning of the third week I joined Maru for a stargazing session. She had a small telescope and was working her way through the Semmier catalogue, which was made easier by the dark nights up in the mountains. She'd just finished demonstrating a new lens specifically made for picking out details on the moon when, while swapping out the lens for another, she brought up something unexpectedly.

"I've noticed that Dr. Harvey has fresh flowers in his office every day now."

"Oh. Yes. I bring them."

"Why?"

"Because... because there are lots of them around the farm, and they make him happy."

"No other reason?"

I fidgeted a little. "Well... I've only been here two weeks and I barely know him. I'm not sure if there _should_ be any other reason yet. I'm trying to take things slow."

"Flowers every day is taking things slow?"

"But they're not store-bought or anything, just picked up around - oh no, am I going too far? Should I stop? Don't tell me he's actually married, or engaged or - or gay? I wanted to ask, but I wasn't sure - it's only been two weeks - "

"Hold on, hold on," she said, laughing at me. "I don't know any of that myself. We don't talk much except about patients and medical stuff. I think he's pretty boring, honestly. I just wanted to know if you had any romantic interest."

"Oh. Yes, I do. I'm not sure if he does, though; he doesn't seem _interested_ interested, just 'friendly doctor' interested." I sighed. "I'd like to get to know him better, but he's at the clinic all day, and at the end of the day, after all the talking and picking berries and things, I'm exhausted. Anyway, maybe there's no point. Salmonberries have been pretty good to me, but eventually they'll go out of season and I'll be back at the problem of a rundown farm with no farmer - just a tired accountant."

"Don't give up so fast," said Maru cheerfully. "The valley may surprise you. There's more than salmonberries around. And if you want to know whether the doctor's interested, why not invite him to the Flower Dance? It's only two weeks away."

That ended our discussion of the subject for the night, but as I walked home later I thought over her idea. I'd forgotten about the Flower Dance; I'd never seen it, only heard about it from my family and friends. The whole town would meet out in a clearing in the forest and couples - or potential couples - would do a ritual dance to celebrate the new growth of spring and the coming seasons of ripening and harvest. Maru once described it as rooted in ancient fertility rituals, which explained why asking someone to dance had definite romantic overtones. I just had to figure out how to ask Harvey without losing my nerve.

I had no berries to deliver the next day, since I'd skipped picking them in favor of a nap before stargazing with Maru, so after dropping off my little bouquet at the clinic, I visited Granny Evelyn. She was famous in Pelican Town for three things: her baking, her gardening and her handmade cards sent on special occasions. She was happy to sit down and guide me through making one.

After several rounds of practice, I managed a decent watercolor reproduction of a daffodil on a piece of card stock, then decorated the border with a running pattern of small green leaves - not very clean or even, but at least you could tell what they were supposed to be. Mostly. When it dried I put it in the little envelope we'd folded and took it home to figure out what to write. This is what I came up with:

_Dr. Harvey,_

_I've enjoyed our morning talks, and I was wondering if you'd like to be my partner at the Flower Dance. If you want to just be friends, don't mention this note and we'll continue as before; you don't need to explain. But if you're willing to accept my invitation, or at least to think about it, please tell me so._

_Emma_

I wrote it out as neatly as I could, slipped it in the envelope and carried it into town with me on my nightly trip to pick up dinner. My resolution wavered a little before the clinic door, but I steeled myself and rang the bell. There was a long silence while, I assumed, he came down from his apartment, but finally the door opened.

"Emma!" he said, a slightly worried look on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I just - I mean, there's something - here." I handed him the envelope. "Please read it and - well - good night."

I hurried off, third and fourth guessing myself, but it was too late now. If I'd just made a fool of myself, hopefully he'd never bring it up and we could both move on with minimal embarrassment. I got my dinner - Gus said that I looked flushed and I shouldn't work so hard - and took it home, where I did my best to calm down and wait for morning.

I'd become such a regular visitor to the clinic that Harvey often opened the door for me before I even had a chance to knock. He did the same thing that day. I put on my best air of nonchalance as I stepped inside.

"Good morning. I think it rained last night - sorry if these are still a little wet." I handed him my latest colorful bundle.

"Yes, thank you. I mean, it's perfectly all right." He took them hesitantly. "I, ah - I read your note."

"Oh."

I had a moment of uncertainty, but the shy smile that appeared on his face set me at ease. "I'd very much like to be your partner at the Flower Dance," he said. "I wasn't sure - that is, you brought all the flowers, but I thought it might be purely out of kindness."

"It mostly was, though I did have hopes." I took a deep breath. "Okay! Well, good, then. But, uh - I was thinking. We still don't know each other very well, do we?"

"That's true. Our schedules seem to conflict."

"Then I thought maybe, one of these nights, we could get takeout from the saloon and eat at a table in the park. If the weather's good. Does that sound... all right?"

He gave me an even bigger smile. "It sounds very nice. I'd love to. When were you thinking? Tonight?"

"Tonight would be fine. Around 5:30? Meet at the saloon?"

"All right. I'll see you then."

And with that I left and dashed next door to ask Abigail to teach me the Flower Dance steps.

I met Harvey for dinner twice over the next couple weeks. It wasn't something we could do often because, as a doctor with a small practice and lots of debt from medical school, money was tight for him, so we also spent one Saturday at the combined library and museum in town, and he even invited me up to his apartment to see his ham radio set and model plane collection - and, he assured me, _only_ for that, no ulterior motives. He had a nice collection of jazz music, I learned, and an interest in history, and a dream of being a pilot that had to be abandoned long ago due to severe acrophobia.

I could see why Maru called him "boring", but I thought he was kind, quiet, intelligent, a little timid, devoted to his patients and accepting of their limitations and his own. I liked him very much.


	5. Seeing Things

The salmonberries slowly began to run dry. They held on longer in Stardrop Vale than in the main valley, but the day before the dance my harvest was so small it barely covered the bottom of my basket. "No more free meals," I said, showing my meager riches to Harvey when I visited the clinic. "It was nice while it lasted. Maybe I should get a microwave."

"There must be other options. Did you take a look at the garden?"

"Yes. It's in pretty dismal shape, but I'm hoping Evelyn can give me some pointers on how to clean it up. Wish me luck."

Evelyn did her best to educate me and I spent the afternoon pulling weeds - at least I hoped they were weeds - but I only got one small plot done before I was so hot, sore, dirty and exhausted that I never wanted to see a garden again. I didn't even have the energy to go into town for my last meal; after my signature canned soup, toast with jam, and tea, I went to bed early. At least I had the Flower Dance to look forward to.

Next morning, in a white blouse and skirt and carrying a pair of dress shoes, I made my way to the clearing a little southwest of town. We'd had good weather and the grass was green, but not soggy; the sun dried it quickly as we waited for everyone to gather. Harvey showed up in a blue blazer and slacks and we joined the other blue-and-white couples. The actual dancing started promptly at noon, music provided by Abigail, Sebastian and a contraption of Maru's, and somehow I managed to get through it while watching my partner instead of my feet. Harvey wasn't the most graceful dancer in the world either, but he was more than impressive enough for me.

After the dancing we all adjourned to the saloon. Gus had a feast laid out, featuring the last of his salmonberry pies, and it was early evening before the festival proceedings finally broke up and Harvey walked back to the farm with me, happily agreeing to hold hands when I offered. We passed through the little gap in the hills which led to Stardew Vale and I began to wonder if I should try kissing him when we reached the house. My schemes were sidetracked when we came in sight of the yard. I stopped and he followed suit, though it took him a few seconds to realize what I was staring at.

The flower beds and garden plots had been transformed. Instead of weed-choked, grassy messes, they were neat, clean and orderly, and though the plots were partly empty, some did have a few green plants surviving in them. Harvey identified strawberries, blueberries, cranberries, peppers, horseradish, and even a bush full of coffee beans, while in a couple of the flower beds were rows of tulips, free and tall and blushing in the sunset.

"How?" I said. "Who could've done this? Everyone was at the festival - even Linus!"

Harvey smoothed his mustache thoughtfully. "I don't know. I can't remember anyone leaving long enough to have managed it. You're sure they didn't look this way this morning?"

"Not even close. I'm incredibly grateful, but - how? Who?"

"You could ask Mayor Lewis, I suppose, though I don't know if he has anything to tell. It's quite remarkable - but very convenient for you!" He smiled warmly and squeezed my hand.

"Yes, it is. I think I can at least manage things now." I laughed. "What a wonderful day it's been!" And without further warning or deliberation, I turned and kissed him. He was too surprised to respond quickly and I was too embarrassed to wait, so I said good night and hurried inside.

I half expected to find the yard back in its wild state next morning, but no, it was as well-kept as before, and some of the plants even had small flowers on them. I looked forward to being able to buy back my saloon-cooked meals with fresh strawberries in a few weeks. Harvey gave me a shy smile when he opened the clinic door and I got a bit flustered, but I covered by offering him the thermos I was carrying.

"What's this?" he said in surprise.

"Fresh, hot coffee, made with grounds from my own coffee plant," I said proudly. "It's one of the few things I can actually make. I learned how from my grandparents. I really prefer tea, though, so I thought I'd bring it to you. Medium roast, no cream or sugar - is that all right?"

"It's wonderful!" he said, looking at me with something like awe. "I've been drinking the instant stuff since I came here. This is splendid." He was a little misty-eyed and I felt all warm and gooey inside.

"Good. If you wash the thermos out and give it back to me later, I can keep bringing more as long as my beans hold out."

He promised to transfer the contents and have it washed and drying within a few hours, and said if he was busy when I came for it, I could just go up to his apartment and get it myself. I went off to discuss garden-related matters with Evelyn, then to order a small selection of seeds from Pierre. Neither of them could shed much light on the mysterious occurrence at the farm yesterday so I decided to drop in on the mayor before heading back, as Harvey had suggested. A note stuck on his door said "community center", so I headed that way.

The community center was a combination of church, meeting hall, storage area and emergency shelter in case the river flooded. Lewis was standing outside with a pile of decorations beside him, fiddling with the keys. "Hello, Emma. I was just getting these put away. What can I do for you?"

I offered to help, and as we worked I told him what had happened. He was as lost for an explanation as everyone else. "Very strange," he said as he stacked or hung up the things I handed to him. "Now that I think of it, back in your grandparents' time we'd have strange happenings like that now and again. Broken things fixed, missing things found.

"In fact, this very building came about that way. We needed a place like it but couldn't afford to buy the timber. Your grandparents said it would come, and one day, sure enough, there it was, just lying here in this spot, all cut and ready. We figured _they'd_ done it, but they said no. Claimed it was junimos. They said if we were grateful we should give them a little bit of it." He pointed to the junimo hut sitting in one corner. "So we did. We used to throw coins in there from time to time - also your grandparents' idea, something about gifts for the creatures - but we've got out of the habit."

I'd passed the hut several times while moving things from the outside door to Lewis in the storage room. I still had one more load left to go, and as I passed the hut, on a whim, I dug out a coin and tossed it through the little door. Another small link to grandpa and grandma, I thought. Lewis finished arranging things and we started out. "Thanks for the help," he said, reaching for the light switch. "It gets harder as I get - what is it?"

I probably looked like I was about to faint. Over his shoulder, in a corner of the hall, I saw a junimo. It was exactly like my grandparents and Linus had described them - tiny, round, colorful, with a friendly face and a tendency to bounce. This one was bright green, and waving and smiling at me. Lewis turned around but the creature immediately disappeared. "What was it? A rat? We get them in here sometimes."

"Rats," I said, marshaling my forces of denial. "Right, I... I must've been..."

"Don't worry, Emma," he said with a friendly smile. "It won't do you any harm. Probably just startled the thing. Come on outside."

He ushered me through the door, turning back to switch off the light. I looked back into the darkened room and... more junimos. Two of them, back where the little hut stood, shining with a light of their own, bouncing and smiling and waving. Lewis closed the door and I lost sight of them. I felt dizzy.

"You all right?" Lewis put a hand on my shoulder. "Got a fear of rats? Maybe you should go see the doctor, you don't look very steady."

"The doctor. Yes. The doctor." I moved off, dazed. "I'll do that. Thanks, mayor."


	6. Uncertain Diagnosis

When I entered the clinic I found Maru sketching electrical diagrams at the reception desk. "Hi, Emma," she said, but her friendly smile quickly shifted to concern. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure. Is the doctor busy?"

"Yes, he's with a patient. Is it an emergency?"

"No. I don't think so. I hope not. I... I should wait. I'll go upstairs, and get my thermos, and wait for him. Maybe I'll lie down."

I passed through and climbed the stairs to Harvey's apartment, my mind racing. I took the thermos from the drying rack and screwed its cap back on, then laid down on the couch in front of the TV, clutching the thermos like a life preserver and running through possible explanations in my head. Trick of the light. Head injury. Fever. Brain tumor. Overwork. Stress. Malnourishment. Poisoning.

I heard someone coming up the stairs and Harvey entered in full doctor mode. He perched beside me on the couch, took my pulse, checked my eyes, felt my skin, and asked if I was in pain or had been hurt anywhere. Once he seemed convinced I was in no immediate danger of dying, he relaxed a little.

"I'm afraid I need to go back downstairs. I was in the middle of an appointment when Maru pulled me aside. Will you be all right for a while longer?"

"I'll be fine. I'm still trying to figure out how to tell you... what I need to tell you."

He looked worried and puzzled, but leaned down to kiss me on the cheek before returning to his previous patient. By the time he came back I'd calmed down, collected myself and stopped expecting to see junimos pop up wherever I looked. We sat side by side on the couch and I told him my story as best I could. He listened with quiet attention all the way through, then thought for a bit.

"I know many conditions that cause visual hallucinations, but there are usually other symptoms. Have you been experiencing headaches?"

"No."

"Dizziness?"

"No. Well, a little, just after I saw the... hallucinations."

"Hmm. Any digestive issues?"

"No."

"Forgetfulness?"

"No."

"Anything at all unusual?"

"Not that I can think of."

He thought it over some more. "I could take blood samples and send them off for analysis, but it would be expensive. Demetrius might be willing to test your well water, but if we don't know what we're looking for... Perhaps an MRI? Hmm. I need to do some reading, and I may call a doctor I know in Zuzu City."

"Will I have to move away, like Grandpa?"

"I hope not," he said, looking alarmed. "Only if - no, let's not think that way. Do you feel well enough to go home?"

"I think so. I hope I don't meet more... hallucinations."

He took my hand and squeezed it. "I'll check on you this evening. Try to rest, but please come find me if you need me."

I went back to the farmhouse and shut myself inside, away from all things junimo related, and tried making some scrambled eggs for lunch. They came out mostly edible, which was an improvement over my last attempt. I sat there eating the bland, rubbery mess and dreaming of Gus's glorious omelettes, wondering if I could make something like them after five or ten years' practice - if they didn't lock me up in a psychiatric ward first.

There wasn't much on the few TV channels my antenna could pick up, so I spent the afternoon trying to read and ignore the fact that I might be deathly ill or insane. Harvey showed up, as promised, a few hours later. He gave me another quick examination while we talked.

"I wasn't able to reach my friend, but I'll try again tomorrow. I did get one of the keys to the community center from Mayor Lewis. I wanted to see if I could find... anything unusual."

"Did you?"

"Yes, actually. I found something lying in front of the junimo hut. It was a coin, but it had very strange markings on the front and back, ones Gunther didn't recognize when I showed it to him."

"I don't remember seeing a coin by the hut. I threw one in, but it was perfectly ordinary. Lewis said it was tradition."

"Yes. I told Lewis about the coin and asked if he'd noticed it before, but he said he hadn't." We sat there in silence until I sighed, scooted closer and slipped my arms around him, snuggling my head against his shoulder. He hugged me and rested his head against mine. We sat there contentedly, not saying much, until he finally suggested treating ourselves to dinner in town and a nice walk afterwards. We did, and since nothing else unusual happened and I got a wonderful goodnight kiss from Harvey, I went to bed feeling much better.

Next day I fixed up another thermos of coffee and headed into town, but passing the mailbox I noticed that it was open. It was _much_ too early for the mail carrier to have come by, so at first I thought an animal had been messing around inside, but on closer inspection I found a note. It was written on very strange paper - thick and highly textured - and in purple ink, the handwriting old-fashioned and flowing:

_My sources tell me there was an odd occurrence in the community center. If you visit my chambers west of the lake, in the stone tower, you will find I have information concerning your... '"rat problem."_

It was signed "M. Rasmodius, Wizard." I stared at it, felt it, read it over again, and started walking slowly into town, holding the note tightly in my hand the whole way. Was this all an elaborate practical joke? For what purpose?

I showed the note to Harvey and he was as baffled as I was. And a little angry. "I promise, Emma, I didn't tell _anyone_ what you told me yesterday. I take doctor-patient confidentiality very seriously. I can only think - no, Mayor Lewis surely wouldn't do this, but if he passed the story around the tavern last night..." He handed the note back to me with a look of disgust. "This is cruel. I hope it was the work of some passing adventurer and not one of our neighbors. Are you all right?"

"I think so. I'm mostly confused." I read the note again. "I think I'll go down there."

"Where?"

"To the tower."

He turned a little pale. "Emma, you - you're not thinking of trying to climb that cliff?"

"No, no way. I'm just curious about how far this joke, or whatever it is, is going to go."

He still looked worried. "I'd like to go with you, but I can't leave the clinic, especially since Maru won't be in today."

"It's okay. I'm going to ask Abigail to come; she'll get a kick out of it."


	7. Off to See the Wizard

Abigail was just getting out of bed when I knocked on her bedroom door, but her sleepiness vanished when I showed her the note. I didn't mention what the "rat problem" was, exactly - I just told her that I'd seen movement near the hut, and about the coin Harvey found. She eagerly agreed to come with me, so, after she got dressed and grabbed a little breakfast, we started for Cindersap Forest.

I studied the old stone tower as it came in sight through the trees, but nothing about it seemed to have changed. That in itself was a little strange, I realized - the tower should've been a lot crumblier with no one around to maintain it. Abigail and I walked into the clearing which separated the forest from the cliff face and looked around, then stared upward.

"Are you going to climb up?" she said, keeping her voice low for some reason.

"Not a chance," I said, matching her tone. "But I don't see any other way, except flying."

"Hey, what about - " She stopped and grabbed my arm. "Emma! Emma, look at that!" She pointed to the cliff a little way south of us. There was a strange shadow on the face of it I hadn't noticed before, though as I looked closer I realized it wasn't a shadow at all. It was a gap, one that seemed to run all the way up to the top. "Come on," Abigail said, pulling me over, but before we took a few steps the shadowy gap had vanished. We stopped.

"There _was_ something there, right?" I said.

"I thought so." We stood looking around, and after a few moments I pointed out another shadowy indentation in the cliff face, this time to the north, but when we started for it, it vanished again. Abigail put her hands on her hips. "Okay. I have an idea. Let's see if it shows up again."

We waited. The southern shadow slowly reappeared. "Now," she said, "this time, just _you_ go."

I walked toward the shadow. It remained steady, and as I got closer I could see it was the beginning of a staircase leading up and back into the rock. I shouted my discovery to Abigail and saw her nod from her post by the trees. "The invitation was for you," she shouted back. "I'm not allowed. I'll wait down here."

I began walking toward the stairs. "I really, really hope I'm not crazy," I said as I put my foot on the bottom step and began climbing. The stairs curved ahead of me as I went, as if a spiral staircase in the cliff was slowly being revealed. The walls of rock quickly shut out everything except the sky overheard, which was a little nerve-racking, but I kept going. Finally I came out on a plateau. Ahead of me stood the tower, with more cliff on the one side and a steep drop on the other, and I had half an idea I was dreaming. I walked up and knocked on the wooden door.

"Come in, come in," said a voice from inside. "Don't be all day about it."

I pushed and the door swung open. Walking into the room, I found myself in the middle of a cliche. Candles everywhere, a bubbling cauldron giving off thick green smoke, an intricate, glowing circle traced on the floor, dark bookshelves, and in the middle of it all, a wizard - dark robes, pointy beard, fancy hat and all. He looked me up and down.

"I wasn't sure you'd come. You're not completely hopeless, it seems."

"Thanks? Who are you?"

"I put my name on the message, didn't I? Rasmodius, wizard." He went to the glowing circle and began making hand gestures over it. "I don't enjoy long visits with strangers, so let's make this as brief as possible. Listen closely. I came to this valley many years ago because it had peculiar magical properties which aided my studies in elementalism, and even led me to hope I might find an apprentice here. The source of those properties, I soon learned, was this."

A small, colorful, bouncing figure appeared in the circle. I took a half step back.

"The inhabitants call them junimos. I've never been able to communicate with one - they seem to avoid me - but I can detect their activity. It's always been concentrated around the farm you now inhabit."

He gave me a narrow look. "Their influence on the valley has diminished in recent years, but I noticed a surge of energy bearing their signature yesterday, a surge centered on a building in the town. I observed you and another inhabitant emerge and noted your agitation, which was subsequently blamed on 'rats'." He waved a hand and the image vanished. "I suspected the junimos had attempted some form of communication. Tell me what occurred."

I related the story, such as it was, and though he listened closely, he didn't seem terribly pleased. "A simple apparition. Not what I was expecting," he muttered when I was done. "Hardly informative."

"So you're saying there really are junimos? I'm not having hallucinations?"

"Young lady, you may be hallucinating pink elephants for all I know, or want to know; your medical conditions are of no interest to me. As far as junimos go, they're entirely real."

"And mermaids?"

"What?"

"Mermaids, are they real too?"

"Certainly. Everyone knows that."

"And leprechauns?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous. Leprechauns. Pots of gold. Bah. Please keep your focus on the junimos. They must have appeared for a reason."

I suddenly remembered the coin. His eyes widened when I told him about it and he began muttering and making hand gestures again, staring into the center of the ring. "I see, I see," he muttered. "Yes. It's an ancient alphabet. They seem to be using it for phonetic transcription. I render the meaning roughly as, 'Hull pour nay burr sheer thava lee.'" He waved whatever he was looking at away and stared at me. I stared back.

"I don't get it," I said.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me think, then." There was a long silence. I watched the thick green smoke coming out of the cauldron dubiously. It smelled like moss and dirt, with a hint of citrus.

Finally Rasmodius looked up. "I believe I have it. The message seems to be one of these three things: 'Help. Your neighbors share the valley,' or 'Help your neighbors, share the valley' - or possibly the reverse of that - or 'Help your neighbors share the valley.' Is that clear?"

"Uh, well, not exactly, but I guess it's something to go on."

"Indeed. Puzzle it out for yourself elsewhere, I'm very busy." He shooed me out the door and it shut behind me. I took the stone staircase back down to the forest floor, where Abigail was waiting in eager anticipation. As we walked back to town I described Rasmodius and his lair of wizardry, what he'd said about the valley, and relayed the message he'd deciphered on the coin. She ate it all up.

"Oh, I wish I could talk to him myself! A real wizard! I wonder what elementalism is? It sounds fascinating."

"If you can get up there, you can ask him yourself. He seems grumpy, though."

"He said he was looking for an apprentice. I wonder - maybe if I _could_ find a way up there, he'd teach me something!"

"Maybe. But you're more likely to break your neck trying."

We saw Harvey actually waiting outside the clinic when we turned into the town square. He hurried toward us with a mix of anxiety and relief on his face. "Are you all right? Did anything happen?" he said.

I looked at Abigail, she looked at me and we both laughed. "I have a lot to tell you. Come on." I put my arm through his and we walked back to the clinic while Abigail headed home.


	8. Starting a Trust Account

Harvey listened to my story with amazement and, though he tried to hide it, disbelief, asking me very careful questions about how I felt and what I'd eaten for breakfast that morning - nothing about Rasmodius or junimos. He said he'd come by the farm again that evening and I headed back there.

I spent an hour or so tending the garden and flower beds. Poppies were poking their heads up in spots, and the berries and peppers were growing so quickly that I had hopes of my first harvest within a week. When I was done I settled down with a cup of tea to think over the events of the last few days. Before long I was interrupted by Maru and Abigail. It seemed I was needed to corroborate the "crazy stories" one had been telling the other.

I decided to just lay it all out for them, the whole thing, every strange occurrence that had taken place since I moved to the valley, junimo sightings included. Abigail was thrilled. Maru was bewildered; she didn't assume I was lying or insane, she just started trying to come up with plausible, non-magical explanations for everything. She even had us go back to the cliff so she could examine the place where the stairs had been.

While Maru investigated and explained, Abigail and I focused on the message of the coin. It wasn't cryptic, exactly, just vague. Help how? Share what? And what would happen afterwards? We didn't come to any solid conclusions, and as evening drew near they left, Maru still muttering about optical illusions, soil contamination and toxic gases.

I tried to get fancy with dinner by grating some of Marnie's fresh cheese over my canned chili. It tasted pretty good, but I managed to scrape up one of my hands on the grater, and I was sitting outside, nursing my wounds and recalling the wonders of pre-shredded packaged cheese, when Harvey arrived. He took one horrified look at the mess of bandages and tissue paper I'd come up with and insisted on taking me back to the clinic to do things properly. He added a lecture on the importance of preventing infection and other medical topics, but I began to feel like he was avoiding something. After he finished the procedure and I thanked him, an awkward silence fell.

"Did you call your friend in Zuzu City?"

"No, I decided not to contact her until - until I had a better understanding of your condition."

"Right. My condition." Another awkward silence. "It can't _all_ be in my head, Abigail saw... well, not very much, I guess." Further silence. "You saw the letter. I guess it could all be a practical joke, like Maru seems to think, but the wizard... and the coin..." Silence. He fiddled with a pen. "Harvey, I'm starting to believe it. All of it. Is that bad?"

He sighed and tried to give me a comforting smile. "No, I wouldn't say it's bad. It's natural - a defensive mechanism to help you cope with the things happening to you."

"But?"

He went back to fiddling with the pen. "There is a problem, yes. Not with you! Don't think that. I mean with me."

"You? You've been wonderful this whole time!"

He gave me a shy, sad smile. "I'm glad you think so. If I were only your - your friend, there might not be an issue. But I'm also your doctor."

"So?"

"So I need to take an impartial view of this situation, and instead I seem to be getting mixed up. I like you, Emma, and rather than trying to treat you, part of me simply wants to believe it all, as you're starting to do. If we were in Zuzu City I might refer you to another doctor."

"Do you want to... well, we're not anything official to each other, so I don't know if 'break up' is the right phrase to use, but - " He looked so miserable at this that I stopped, jumped up and hugged him. He hugged me back, tight.

"I don't want that," he said, his voice muffled against my hair. "I've waited so long."

"Then it's settled. We're going to figure out a way to handle this. It must be a problem other small town doctors have faced, right? More or less?"

"That's true." He pulled back, though he didn't let go, and gave me a genuine smile. "Perhaps there's a way."

"You should start by sending me a bill for our consultations. And for this," I added, holding up my bandaged hand.

"Oh. Well, yes, I suppose I should. I promise I'll be reasonable. Does part payment in coffee sound acceptable?"

"Perfect."


	9. Spreading the Wealth

Summer turned its bright gaze on the valley, and all was hot and lazy down by the ocean, cool and leafy up in the hills. Half of Pelican Town started spending their days on the beach. I enjoyed a walk there in the mornings, but once afternoon arrived and temperatures climbed I escaped back to the farm, where, thanks to the seeds I'd ordered, some clippings from Evelyn and the various perennials which had survived, I had a pretty impressive garden going - impressive to _me_ , at least, when compared with the one or two potted plants I'd barely managed to keep alive in my old apartment. I provided tomatoes, peppers, blueberries, radishes and various herbs to Gus, plus the spice berries and wild grapes I found growing in the forested part of the farm, and a little fruit from a few of my grandparents' trees which had survived. It was enough to get my twice-a-day meal rations back and some money to boot. The coffee beans kept coming too, but they were mostly reserved for Harvey.

I didn't see the junimos again, though I kept up the family tradition and left the best of each day's harvest at their hut door. Demetrius and Maru poked around for an explanation of the ongoing and exceptional fertility of my land while Abigail dedicated herself to trying to get up the cliff and meet the wizard. She was convinced that climbing equipment wouldn't work, that there was "a cool way" to do it and she just needed to figure out how.

Harvey and I kept meeting in the mornings and for the occasional date. We didn't push for any formal definition of our relationship; there was a lingering question in both of our minds about what, exactly, was going on with me, and I still hadn't decided if my stay in the valley would be permanent. I was struggling to break even on the farm and the struggle would only get worse once winter arrived.

As I knew from my vacations as a kid, the most important events of summer were the luau and the moonlight jelly migration. Preparations for the first one involved almost the entire valley; it was a day-long feast, with dancing on the side, and everyone brought the best they had to offer in terms of food, decor and entertainment. Mayor Lewis always sent a special invitation to the governor, and this year, to our surprise, it was accepted, adding an extra level of excitement.

I didn't dare bring a dish to the luau lest the governor walk away with a bad case of food poisoning. The best I could do was bring every fresh ingredient I could lay my hands on to Gus. The luau had never been my favorite part of my vacations - too hot, sandy and crowded - but I knew it was popular with the townsfolk and extra important because of the governor's visit, so I wanted to help make it a success.

Almost everyone showed up to the party that day. The only person missing was Gil, a member of the local branch of the Adventurer's Guild who'd volunteered for duty at the guild hall (more of a guild shack, really) in case an inexperienced adventurer happened along and got themselves in trouble down in the mine. We didn't forget about him, though, and once all the food was cooked and laid out, Gus put together a special plate. It was already getting too hot and noisy for me on the beach so I volunteered to carry the plate up to Gil.

It was a lovely day in the mountains and I lingered along the path as I walked back, a rocky hill on one side of me and a small mountain lake on the other. I'd gotten well out of sight of the hall when I heard a peculiar noise. _"Monster!"_ I thought, though I'd never heard of one leaving the old mine, and looking around quickly I spotted something sitting on a heap of rocks just up the slope. It didn't look like any monster Abigail had ever described to me. It was human-shaped, very short, and wearing a strange helmet that obscured all of its face except for two very bright eyes.

Slowly I realized that it was a dwarf - not a mythical creature, exactly, but pretty close, since dwarves and shadow people were believed to have wiped each other out in their long wars. I stared. The dwarf looked around carefully before making more noises. After a stupidly long time I realized it was trying to talk to me, but all I could do was shrug and spread my hands. The dwarf gave me a look that, as best I could tell, meant it was disappointed, then turned and vanished behind the rocks. I staggered on my way. A dwarf! Here! And apparently it wanted something - but what?

I'd almost reached the luau before my brain started working again and I struck on an idea. There was one person in the valley who might conceivably understand what the dwarf was saying. I hurried back to the beach, loaded up another special plate of food as inconspicuously as possible, and set off for Cindersap Forest.

The old stone tower still looked just as it had all my life. I searched the cliff face for any shadow of a stairway, but there was none. After some thought I decided there was only one thing to do.

"Mr. Rasmodius!" I yelled. "Can I come up and talk to you, please?"

Nothing. After about thirty seconds, I tried again. And again. It must've taken a full five minutes before a shadow finally appeared on the rock, and a few minutes after that I was in front of the wooden door, carefully balancing the plate of food in one hand while I knocked with the other.

"Come in, come in," said an irritated voice. "There's no point in knocking when I've already let you up."

I found the room exactly as I'd left it, though the fumes from the cauldron had a more reddish shade. Rasmodius, standing near one of his bookshelves, glared at me from under his fancy hat. "What do you want?"

"Well, uh, I was walking back from the guild hall, near the lake - "

"I didn't ask for the story of your life, young woman. What is it you wish of me?"

"Can you talk to dwarves?"

"Yes. Is that all?"

"No, no! I need your help. Will you teach me a little Dwarvish, or whatever it's called?"

He scoffed. "I am not in the business of instructing farmers in ancient tongues."

"But you want to keep the junimo magic in the valley, right? I'm just trying to do what they said - help my neighbors."

He gave me a long look. "You've met the Dwarf."

"Yes! You know about it?"

"The Dwarf is not an 'it'. The Dwarf is the Dwarf. And of course I know, my research often requires the use of rare minerals which I can only obtain from the Dwarf. That's one reason I settled here."

"The Dwarf seemed to want something from me, but I couldn't understand what it - I mean, what the Dwarf was saying. That's why I came to you."

"I see." He sighed heavily. "Wait here. I shall return. _Don't touch anything._ " He stalked over to a strange symbol in a corner of the floor, said a mystical-sounding word and vanished into thin air.

I stood there, gaping, the plate of food still in my hands, not daring to take a step. But I _looked_. I tried to take in every detail of the room, knowing Abigail would want a report later. I'm not sure how long the wizard was gone, maybe ten minutes, but he suddenly reappeared in the same corner.

"I have a message," he said brusquely. "Listen closely, I hate repeating myself. The Dwarf says this: 'Friend of the Junimo, I would trade with you the good things under the earth for the good things of the valley. When you have such things for me, bring them to the rock fall where we met today. Come before the sun is high. Come alone. Tell no one.'" The wizard took a deep breath. "There. You can manage the rest yourself, I trust. Now if there's nothing else, I'm very busy." He started to turn away.

"Just one more thing," I said, holding up the plate of food. "I brought you this. We're holding our luau down on the beach and I thought you might enjoy a taste. Gus is an amazing cook."

"I wondered why you'd dragged your lunch all the way here," he muttered, but I had a sneaking suspicion he was pleased. "Put it there and be on your way."

He gestured to a roughly-cut stone table and I did as I was told. By the time I got back to the luau it was late afternoon and everyone seemed to be having a great time; the governor was rocking the dance floor, half of town was cheering him on and the other half was swimming, dozing or lounging lazily in the sunshine with a drink nearby.

I was tired. I slipped through the crowd and headed for the piers which jutted out into the bay. Abigail was sitting there beneath the awning of Willy's fish shack, watching the little waves roll in, so I joined her and told the story of my latest wizardly encounter, though I kept the Dwarf's request in mind and didn't mention our meeting or our bargain.

When I'd finished, and answered all the questions she could think of, she brought out her flute to "pipe the waves in" and ponder what I'd told her. I fell asleep listening to the music and trying to keep watch for mermaids.


	10. Jellies in the Moonlight

Next day, not knowing exactly what the Dwarf meant by "good things of the valley," I packed a small selection of produce from my farm into a separate corner of my basket, then headed into town. I dropped off the usual thermos of coffee with Harvey and gave him a brief sketch of my adventures the day before (minus my encounter with the Dwarf) and left him looking thoughtful. Instead of heading for the saloon I turned up into the mountains and made for the designated rock pile. I picked out a wide, flat stone, spread a dish cloth over it, sat down within arm's reach and waited. It was maybe a quarter of an hour before I heard scuffling and the Dwarf peered out at me from some distance away.

"Hello," I said, not knowing if the Dwarf could understand me, but figuring it was worth a shot. "I brought some things to show you." I held up the basket. "I'll lay them here - " I pointed to the cloth " - and you can take whichever ones you like." I set out the little collection piece by piece, then sat back and waited.

The Dwarf crept forward cautiously and surveyed my offerings, made a gesture which I interpreted as "Wait here", then vanished behind the rocks, emerging a few minutes later with a bucket made of some shiny, metallic material. The Dwarf started going through each item in turn, either picking it up, saying something and putting it in the bucket, or else pointing at the item and saying a different word, accompanied by a sign I took to mean "I don't want this". When everything had been dealt with, the Dwarf reached into what I assumed was a pocket and placed something on the mostly bare cloth, then, with a final word, maybe of farewell, turned and disappeared behind the rocks again. I picked up the object - it was a small, deep pink stone, well polished and very pretty. I studied it before putting it in my own pocket, gathering the cloth and remaining produce and returning to town.

After lunch at the saloon I headed over to the combined library and museum to visit its caretaker, Professor Gunther, who sometimes identified gems for adventurers who got lucky in the mines. I handed over the stone and he studied it carefully, comparing it to the descriptions and pictures in a copy of _Gems of the World_. "It seems to be rose quartz," he said. "Not very valuable, I'm afraid. Strange that it's already polished." He handed the stone back to me. "There's a jeweler in Zuzu City who the guild recommends to its members; you could probably get the address from Marlon if you're interested. I didn't know you went in for mine-diving, Emma."

"Oh, I don't. I got it in trade. Thanks for the help!"

When I got home I dropped the stone into an empty glass jar and set it on a windowsill to gleam in the sunlight. Whether it was worth anything or not, it was pretty, and seemed like a fair trade, all in all.

The Dwarf became a regular customer of mine. Once a week or so I'd get little polished stones of various colors in exchange for whatever produce I had available. We built our own shared language out of gestures, a few words we'd picked up from each other and, as a last resort, drawing pictures in the dirt. Sometimes the Dwarf asked for other things that could be got in the valley, like cheese or honey; I bought them and brought them along, my reward being deep blue or shimmery white stones, which the Dwarf soon learned were my favorites.

I worried about how I was coming out of these deals, but I wasn't sure I could stop even if I was operating at a loss. It seemed to be what the junimos wanted, and the Dwarf loved the "good things" I brought, and when the sun shone in at just the right angle, my glass jar glowed as if it were full of live jewels. So I kept on.

The migration of the moonlight jellies slowly drew near. This had been my favorite part of my visits, though also the most bittersweet - it meant I'd be off home and back to school in very short order. The jellies always passed through the bay under the last full moon of the last month of summer. I was told that their numbers had diminished in recent years - due to pollution, Maru said - but they were still an impressive sight. I looked forward to watching them again, and also to snuggling with Harvey for a few hours, which was one of my favorite pastimes and one of his too, by all indications.

On the night in question everyone gathered on the beach after sunset and waited for the moon to rise, candleboats at the ready to attract the jellies. Harvey and I avoided the crowded piers in favor of walking along the beach near the treeline. We'd reached one end of the beach and were turning to walk back when something in the shadows under the trees caught my eye. On closer inspection, it seemed to be a man, oddly dressed. In fact, it was -

"Hush," he said, before a word even came out of my mouth. "I'm here to observe the lunaloos. They possess an unusually potent magical aura for an aquatic life form. Normally I would observe from my tower, but there are advantages to closer study, and I thought I might risk it. Don't tell anyone I'm here," he added as I opened my mouth again. "My goal is research, not chit chat."

"Okay. Abigail would love to meet you, though."

He snorted and we walked away along the beach. "Who was that?" Harvey said. "I could barely make him out."

"Rasmodius," I said, and he looked at me with wide eyes.

When the moon finally sailed over the treetops we headed for the piers and got our boats ready. Willy stood a little way out into the bay in his own craft, watching the current, and we watched him and waited for his signal. When he lit his lantern and waved it, it was time. Our little fleet bobbed out around us on the gentle swells. Answering lights appeared out in the darkness of the sea, slowly coming nearer, brighter, until the piers were surrounded by living constellations, each star a delicate jellyfish swaying in an undersea breeze.

It felt as bittersweet as ever. I thought of my grandparents and old times and cried, but I was happy, too, standing with an arm around Harvey, and with my friends nearby. We played the usual game of spotting the rare green jellies among the blue, and Elliott, our local author, recited an ode he'd written for the occasion. But eventually the little candles went out, one by one, and the jellies drifted away to continue their long journey.

The moon was still bright overhead as Harvey and I walked back to the clinic, tired after the long wait and the excitement, and sleepy because it was so late - nearly midnight. I laughed after yawning for the third time.

"I used to stay up this late in college all the time, no trouble."

"So did I, especially in medical school, though it was far from healthy." He stifled a yawn of his own. "I'm starting to feel old."

"Old? At your age?"

"It's not only about age." He sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "There's a point at which memories and regrets become a burden - an almost overwhelming one. I wonder if it's too late, if I've put off my plans too long while I focused on other things."

"What plans? I thought you'd given up on flying."

"I have. I meant other plans." He gave me a shy glance. "Big, important plans, risky ones, and I - I get nervous. I wish I had your courage, Emma."

"You're welcome to borrow it, any time," I said, squeezing his hand. He smiled, but then we reached the clinic door and it was time to say goodnight.


	11. Up a Cliff

The days and nights grew cooler, the trees decided green was old-fashioned and went in for orange and red and gold, fairy roses blossomed in my flower beds, cranberries and yams filled my garden, and in the woods were blackberries, hazelnuts and wild plums.

The talk of the town was the upcoming Stardew Valley Fair. It was the one event that regularly drew outsiders to the town, mostly folk from smaller settlements in neighboring valleys. I was told there would be grange displays, carnival games, traveling performers and, of course, Gus's food. The concept of a grange display was new to me, but Lewis said I just needed to set some of my produce aside to bring along on fair day, so I did.

The fair was a week away when I heard someone pounding at my door one evening. After crawling back into my skin, I went to see who it was.

"It's here," said Abigail breathlessly, clutching her flute. "I just saw it up at the mountain lake."

"What's here?" I said, stepping aside so she could come in.

"The mist, the cold, creeping mist, just the way it used to be." She sat down in one of my rickety chairs. "There's only a sliver of moon tonight, and a wind high up is tossing the clouds around like crazy, so I thought I'd go out and play. I was looking over the water when I saw it coming. It was like the arms of a hundred ghosts, and when I played they writhed, and clawed, and reached up to pull down the moon and break it." She sat back, a look of wild delight on her face. "Emma, I have an idea."

"Uh oh."

"This is going to be _amazing_."

"And dangerous?"

"Only for me, and only if it goes wrong. I just want a witness."

"Where are we going?"

"Down to the forest lake, and then - you'll see."

It was quickly getting dark; I took along a flashlight so we could find our way through the woods without falling on our faces, but Abigail insisted I turn it off when we reached the water. It was remarkably still down there, though the clouds were racing across the stars overhead and casting dim, skittering shadows in the light of the crescent moon.

Abigail lifted her flute and began to play, high and haunting, and the shadows over the lake seemed to move in response. They deepened, gathered, and I realized a mist was spreading, sending out little tendrils over the surface of the water. It came slowly toward us, making the far trees blur together, and as it approached, Abigail moved off, still playing, through the little belt of trees that separated the lake from the cliff on which the wizard's tower stood. The mist and I followed.

At the foot of the cliff she stopped walking. The mist crept up around us, feeling its way along the ground with cool, clammy fingers. One of the tendrils lifted off the ground and wrapped itself around Abigail's waist. She played on, and I wondered if the darkness was playing tricks on my eyes because she seemed to be rising. Soon there was no mistaking it - the mist piled up against the cliff, and on its seething back rode Abigail, until eventually I couldn't even see her, or anything, through the chill fog, but I heard her music going on high above me.

Then it stopped. I listened hard, and thought I heard a faint knocking, then the sound of a door which opened and closed.

Abigail had learned to fly, and the wizard had got an apprentice.


	12. Floating on Air

Fair day arrived and I headed for the town square, where tents and booths and tables had been set up the night before. I found my box and filled it with my little set of samples; I was arranging and rearranging them to try and get some kind of artistic effect when Harvey hurried up. "Emma, will you come to the train station with me? There's something I want to show you."

As we climbed the hill I noticed someone setting up a brightly-colored sign. "Balloon rides!" it said, and sure enough, laid out in the field next to the station building was a partially-inflated hot air balloon, shining yellow and red and green in the sunlight. It was attached to a big, sturdy-looking basket, and anchored to the ground by thick tethers.

"The operator said it should be ready to go in about a quarter of an hour," Harvey said, "and I've asked to take the first ride. With you, I hope."

I couldn't believe it. Harvey once told me he got nervous just _looking_ at skyscrapers in Zuzu City. "Are you okay?" I said. "You don't have a fever or anything?"

"I feel a little shaky, but I want to do this, together."

"All right. I'm with you."

When the balloon was full, and after a safety briefing by the operator, we climbed in using a set of stepladders. With a series of thumps the operator released some weights and we began to rise, very slowly, though it was fast enough that Harvey started to turn pale. By the time we were level with the roof of the station building he was trembling a little, but he kept it together until a gust of wind rocked the basket gently. He yelped, shut his eyes and grabbed me like a drowning man goes after a life preserver, shaking all over.

I rubbed his back, stroked his hair, said the most soothing things I could think of and eyed the emergency gas release valve the operator had pointed out. In the end, though, I decided not to go for it unless Harvey actually asked me to, or he passed out or something. I wanted this for him as badly as he did himself.

Eventually the balloon stopped rising and no breezes came to stir the basket. I felt Harvey's pounding heart slow down and he started breathing more evenly, though the trembling didn't entirely stop. When he finally spoke up he sounded miserable.

"Look at me. I wanted to impress you, but I'm just a shivering coward."

"Darling, I never expected you to overcome a lifetime's worth of fear in five minutes. We're pretty stable now - do you feel any better?"

"A little." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to - to look. Don't let go of my hand."

He unwound himself and backed up slowly, eyes still shut, taking my hand as he went. He turned his head toward the edge of the basket, took another breath and opened his eyes. The trembling started up again immediately, but he kept his eyes open and stood still, his grip tight. Gradually he stopped shaking and began actually looking around.

"I can't believe it. I'm really here."

We weren't _terribly_ high, not enough to see over the mountain-walls of the valley, but there were the roofs of Pelican Town and its tiny townsfolk walking around the square, and Cindersap Forest decked out in red and gold, and the winding river gleaming like silver. Sunlight glanced off the windows of the wizard's tower and the far-off mountains faded into the sky in a blanket of blue haze. A flock of birds darted around us curiously before heading on their way, and a low, fluffy cloud sailed by seemingly within reach. It was a magical world.

I kissed Harvey on the cheek. "You did it. This is wonderful."

"I wouldn't have dared try it without you," he said, giving me a look that made my heart flutter. "Emma - Emma, we've known each other awhile now, and - well - "

He turned and kissed me. I felt his heart pounding away again, and when his hands started wandering places they'd never dared go before, my heart sped up to match.

The balloon started drifting downwards, which we didn't notice until it was almost on the ground; we had to scramble to compose ourselves before the ground crew came running over. "I love you," Harvey whispered as they set up the step ladder. "I hope you decide to stay here. With me."

The rest of the day was fun but relatively uneventful. We walked around and admired the displays of our friends' skills - Leah's art, Robin's woodworking, Clint's smithing, Marnie's happy animals and Willy's pungent fish - played a few of the games and enjoyed a reasonable portion of Gus's barbecued offerings. I did spot an unexpected figure lurking by the fortune teller's booth; when I came over to say "Hi", he muttered that his apprentice had informed him that Gus's smoked pork ribs were items of great arcane significance, then returned to "investigating" the stack of them on his plate.

It was a perfect day. I lay awake that night running it all over in my mind. Would I stay? _Could_ I stay? I loved Harvey, but I was still barely scraping by, and winter was coming.


	13. Out of the Shadows

The Spirit's Eve celebrations that year were unlike any Pelican Town had ever seen. Abigail offered to provide the entertainment, and for a whole day she blocked off the park and the nearby community center while she made preparations. At sunset on Spirit's Eve she opened the barricades and astounded us all.

An intricate hedge maze had appeared from nowhere, full of ghastly, ghouly and ghostly surprises, while the community center held a (safely caged) menagerie of slimes, cave insects, metal heads, dust sprites, and even a few skeletons, all overseen by Abigail's associates - Mr. Rasmodius, a "reclusive scholar" who, she told her parents, had moved into the old stone tower to conduct research on local wildlife, and his friend, a very short person in a funny costume who never spoke, but who really enjoyed the feast Gus had prepared.

It was all great fun, or so I heard from where I sat sipping mulled wine with Harvey in the town square. He only got ten feet into the maze before deciding he'd had enough excitement for one night.

It was a few days later that I made my last delivery of the year to the Dwarf, explaining as best I could that my plants were dead or dormant, but if anything was needed during the winter I could be reached at the farm or by a message to the wizard, who'd pass it on to Abigail and so to me. I still did a little business with Gus by collecting snow yams and crystal fruit from the woods, but the lean times had come. They were beautiful times, though, white and clear and quiet, the land asleep beneath its powdered blanket. I thought the valley was all out of surprises for me, but I was wrong.

Where the farm met the hills was a little stream, and on the far side of it, in a spot where bare rock had been exposed, were openings in the rock face, not big enough for humans to get into but useful for various animals. One evening a light rain was falling, mixed with snow, and I'd wandered down there in hopes of finding crocuses or holly - the only things I had left to bring Harvey, the last of the coffee beans having run out. As I searched I heard a haunting call come from a dark opening across the stream. It wasn't like any animal sound I'd ever heard in the valley. _"Monsters!"_ I thought, and ran off to consult with Abigail.

Fortunately the whatever-it-was kept calling long enough for her to come back with me and listen. After a few minutes she pulled me away. "You won't believe this," she said, "but I think that's a shadow person."

"What? Here?"

"I know! Rasmodius told me there might be one in the valley, but they hate coming out by day and they're basically invisible at night, so he wasn't sure."

"What do we do?"

"I'd love to talk to one. They're very shy of humans, though."

"Could it - could the shadow person be friendly?"

"Maybe. We can try _making_ friends, anyway."

Back at the house we put our heads together and came up with a plan. Abigail said that shadow people were known to have an insane love of horseradish, and I had a small supply from my garden on hand. We took some down to the opening we thought the sounds had come from, bruising it a little so the scent would carry, and left it in a dry spot along with a note that said, "Hello. Please accept this. We hope you will give us a chance to get to know you." We weren't sure if the shadow person spoke any human language, of course, but we figured we'd keep leaving notes in every language we could think of, and hopefully one would work. Abigail said it might take months to earn the shadow person's trust, if our offerings were noticed at all, but it was worth a shot.

When I opened my door next morning I found a note on the porch. It was the same one we'd left in the cave the night before, but writing had been added on the back in a neat, elegant hand: "My name is Krobus. Thank you for the gift. Please bring more." Sitting on top of the note was an old coin, so old that I'd never seen its like.

So began our correspondence. I ran out of my own horseradish stores pretty quickly, but fortunately the store-bought stuff was acceptable, though (Krobus said) not as good. In exchange I got all sorts of things - coins, ancient artifacts, magical substances, anything old or strange or both. I gave it all to the wizards or to Gunther, depending on who I thought would be interested, and got a little money in return if the item was worth it. Each evening I left a note and the day's delivery in the same opening, often including questions Abigail wanted to ask, and Krobus answered briefly but politely in notes left on my porch the next morning.

I never knew what I'd find when I opened my door each morning. It was a wonderful adventure.


	14. A Winter Star Miracle

The white winter passed slowly. Leah made ice sculptures, townsfolk went fishing on the frozen lakes, the Feast of the Winter Star appeared on the horizon, and one night I sat down to a hard reckoning. I needed to know exactly where I stood. I went over my accounts of the last ten months, made some forecasts, glanced uneasily at repairing the old fence and replacing the old furnace and water pump, groaned at the prospect of giving up meals from the saloon, theoretically scrimped and saved and drove down every expense and up every profit I could find.

In the end, if I lived like a miser, let the fence decay away completely, worked my fingers to the bone in the garden and the forest, stuck to my own awful cooking, left the house half-furnished and no unexpected expenses popped up... I'd still be operating at a loss. Marriage might help in some areas, but not others, especially since Harvey had his own debts to worry about. Having children was out of the question.

I sat there brooding in the light of my only lamp, imagining myself back in the city in a small high-rise apartment, eating cheap junk food while surfing through a hundred different cable channels for something to make me forget what I'd left behind here. Or should I press on, year after year, in this empty, uncomfortable house, my bank account slowly draining away to nothing, in hopes of a miracle? I didn't want to give up on my dreams, but as Harvey had once said, not everyone can achieve them. That's just the way the world is.

Something kept nagging at the back of my mind. I glanced around the room for a clue to what I was missing, and my eyes were passing the windows for the third time when I remembered the little glass jar of pretty stones. I got it and held it up to the light; they _were_ pretty, but were they worth any more than the groceries I'd traded for them?

Next morning I caught the early train to Zuzu City, on my way to visit the jeweler whose address Marlon had given me. I thought about stopping to see my parents first, but decided to wait until I had news. I kept going over in my head how much I'd need to stay in the valley - at a bare minimum, I thought, it should be enough to break even. The next year would still be risky, and I might be reduced to a life of canned food and toast, but barring major disasters I could probably make it. And then maybe, just maybe, between Harvey and I, we could make a life of it together. But that was far down the road, with a lot of "ifs" in the way, so I tried not to think about it.

The jeweler's shop was small but elegant, with a sign in the window that read "Gems bought and sold". I told the salesman my business and was directed into a back room. The gem expert, a businesslike woman in a dress suit, greeted me politely, asked me to sit and took the jar I handed to her.

"This is an interesting collection," she said, spreading it out on her workbench under the light. "You must be an adventurer of some sort."

"Not exactly. I own a farm down in Stardew Valley."

She looked up, surprised. "Stardew Valley? I used to do good business with some farmers there, before the husband got sick and they had to move."

"You must mean my grandparents. They went to Yoba last year and left the farm to me."

She dropped her professional manner for a more friendly one. "Are you their granddaughter? It's a pleasure to meet you, though I'm sorry to hear they've passed on. I looked forward to their visits - very nice people, and the stones they brought were remarkable. My clients still ask if I have more like them, even after all these years. Let me see."

She fitted her loupe and began examining the collection, muttering an occasional "Ah" or "Mm hm." It felt like ages before she set the glass down and beamed at me.

"Very nice indeed. Did you know that some of these stones are only found in Stardew Valley? Star shards, fairy stone, and here - " she held up a gem whose colors shifted like a kaleidoscope " - is what I called a prismatic shard. I wrote a very well-received paper on these some years ago." She surveyed the desk with satisfaction. "Fine opals, kyanite, two diamonds... yes, I think I can make you a good offer, and I hope you'll keep bringing your business to me."

The last train from Zuzu City arrives in Pelican Town at 10pm. At 10:05pm I was ringing the doorbell of the clinic. I knew Harvey would be asleep, but I didn't care. He opened the door in a lab coat which had been hurriedly shrugged on over his nightclothes.

"Emma! Is there an emergency?"

"Yes. No. Come out here a minute." I pulled him into the center of the square, where a decorated Winter Star tree stood glittering in the moonlight, and all was still, and our breaths made little clouds in the air. I took his hands in my gloved ones to keep them warm. "Harvey, I got some good news in the city today, some _wonderful_ news. I was going to call you, but after I got to my parents' place I thought - well, I thought I'd surprise you. I got you an early Winter Star present. If you want it."

"Now? Here?" he said, blinking at me and shivering a little.

"Yes." I let go of one hand and reached into my pocket. "Grandma gave this to Grandpa before she went off to war, and Dad gave it to Mom, and I - I wonder if you'll take it." It was a blue glass pendant, in the traditional seashell shape, on a simple chain. "Harvey, I love you. I want you to be mine, and I yours, in the sight of Yoba, for as long as his works endure."

He gasped, and trembled, and his eyes got wide, and he said _"Yes!"_ so loud that it probably woke half the town, then blushed scarlet. I put the chain around his neck and kissed him until his shivering stopped.

"That's all I had to say. You can go inside now," I said.

"With you?"

"Yes, with me, from now on."


	15. Spring

We held the public ceremony during the Feast of the Winter Star; after all, everyone was already going to be there, and Gus would be providing a feast, and while we didn't have to worry _too_ much about money anymore, it was still best to save where we could. The rest of the winter was a happily busy one - getting moved in together, taking the upper floor out of mothballs, discussing wallpaper and furniture and what to plant in spring.

Harvey took over all kitchen duties. He was no Gus, but he was ten times better than me. Fluffy, creamy scrambled eggs, crisp hashbrowns and pancakes from scratch for breakfast, home-made pasta with fresh seafood for dinner, and when spring came, he made good use of fresh vegetables from our own garden. Because spring _did_ come, of course, green and alive and full of the scent of flowers.

Salmonberries grew again. I staged my basket by the front door one evening, in preparation for my first harvest the next day, and smiled as I remembered how much things had changed. That night I had a dream.

I dreamed I was standing on our porch, watching the sunrise, when I saw two people walking up the path to the house. I hugged them when they reached me and we stood with our arms around each other as morning came down from the hills.

"The farm looks nice," Grandpa said. "The junimos must be happy. I can feel them all around the place."

"It's still not what it was in your day," I said.

"We didn't expect it to be. It's yours now, not ours."

"Has that husband of yours seen a junimo yet?" said Grandma.

"No. Why, will he?"

"Anyone who lives here long enough will see 'em, long as they respect the land and their mind's the least bit open. Might be a shock, though."

"And our kids?"

"If they stick around and don't go traipsing off somewhere." Grandma cast an annoyed look in the direction of Zuzu City.

"Some folks are city folks and that's all there is to it," said Grandpa. "Cities have their own sort of magic, I hear."

Grandma snorted skeptically.

"Quite the stubborn old soldier I married," said Grandpa, grinning. "It all worked out in the end. Your heart's here, Emma, just like ours are."

"You're going to name that child of yours after me, aren't you?" said Grandma.

Grandpa sighed. "Ma, no one calls girls 'Gertrude' anymore."

They argued about it while I just laughed and looked forward to what the next year would bring.


End file.
